Between Power and Trust: Re-reading Al-Siyasah al-Shar‘iyyah in Indonesia Today

There is one tendency that is increasingly palpable in our political life: the state is treated like a stage, not a trust. Policies are formulated with electoral calculations, not public needs. Laws are debated, but justice often lags behind. In such a situation, re-reading a classical text feels like an odd endeavour—yet that is precisely where its importance lies.

The book Al-Siyasah al-Shar‘iyyah, written by Ibn Taymiyyah, was born from a context of crisis: fragile authority, legal injustice, and the despair of rulers. But what it offers is not nostalgia for the past, rather enduring principles: that the state, in whatever form, is only legitimate insofar as it upholds justice.

At this point, the distance between the 14th century and Indonesia today suddenly feels closer than we might think.

Ibn Taymiyyah begins with one simple but often forgotten idea: power is not an end, but a means. He wrote that God establishes a just state—even if it is not fully religious—and does not practise tyranny even if it claims religiosity. Here, the primary measure is not symbols, but function.

In the Indonesian context, we often get trapped in symbolic debates: about identity, labels, about who most “represents” certain values. Meanwhile, fundamental issues—inequality, corruption, unequal access to justice—flow like an undercurrent rarely addressed seriously.

Al-Siyasah al-Shar‘iyyah serves as a reminder: the state is not measured by how loudly it speaks of morality, but by how far it delivers tangible justice. Further, Ibn Taymiyyah speaks of flexibility in policy. He does not view law as rigid and detached from reality. A leader, in his view, may adopt policies not explicitly mentioned in the texts, as long as the goal is clear: public benefit and prevention of harm.

Here, we find a space often misunderstood. Flexibility does not mean opportunism. It demands the capacity to read situations clearly—and the courage not to use law as a tool to justify power.

In Indonesian political practice, the opposite often occurs. Regulations can change quickly when facing certain interests, but slowly when it comes to public protection. Law becomes flexible upwards, but rigid downwards. In Ibn Taymiyyah’s framework, this is not merely an administrative flaw—it is a moral failure in managing trust.

Another intriguing aspect of this book is its emphasis on the integrity of officials. For Ibn Taymiyyah, the state does not depend only on the system, but on the people who run it. He stresses the importance of selecting officials based on competence and honesty, not proximity or narrow loyalty.

We do not need to look far for examples. In many cases in Indonesia, the problem with policies is not a lack of rules, but the quality of implementers. When positions result from political compromises rather than merit, policies lose direction even before execution.

At this point, Al-Siyasah al-Shar‘iyyah feels like an uncomfortable mirror: it does not give us excuses to blame the system alone. It returns responsibility to humans—to the choices made, to the integrity maintained or neglected.

Yet perhaps most relevant is how Ibn Taymiyyah views the relationship between power and justice. He is not naive. He knows that power always has the potential to deviate. Therefore, he emphasises the importance of checks—both through law and through the moral awareness of rulers.

In the context of Indonesian democracy, those checks should come through institutions: parliament, judiciary, media, and civil society. But when those institutions are also caught in the current of interests, checks become formalities. What remains is procedure, without substance.

And this is our problem today: we have mechanisms, but we lack the spirit.

Re-reading Al-Siyasah al-Shar‘iyyah in Indonesia today does not mean importing a past system into a modern state. That would be a dangerous simplification. What is more important is grasping its principles: that politics, ultimately, is about trust—about how power is used to protect, not to dominate. In simpler terms: the state exists to serve, not to be served.

This sounds clichéd. But precisely because it is said too often, it loses its inspirational power. Yet if we apply it to concrete practice—from budget formulation, law enforcement, to public services—this principle demands no small change.

It demands the courage to place public interest above group interests. It demands willingness to be monitored. It demands honesty to acknowledge limitations. And perhaps that is the hardest part.

In the end, Al-Siyasah al-Shar‘iyyah does not provide technical answers on how to manage a modern state. But it gives something more fundamental: a compass.

Amid the complexity of Indonesian politics—with all its compromises, power struggles, and electoral pressures—this compass is vital. Not to simplify problems, but to ensure we do not lose direction. Because without direction, power will always find ways to justify itself.

And when that happens, the state no longer stands as a guardian of justice—but as a space where justice must continually be fought for.